


10

by ticketlove



Category: Ticketlove(band)
Genre: ugh king i did this for u
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 21:29:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18039398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticketlove/pseuds/ticketlove
Summary: 10 years ago, he was found.





	10

 

**#1- the man with the white hair and red eyes**

His legs are shaking, even when the man with the white hair and red eyes who somehow knows his name is cradling him in his arms, speaking too fast on the phone for him to understand. His hair is a shocking white, no discoloration or difference within even one strand. His eyes were a deep blood red too, almost like one of those creatures with sharp teeth in one of the books (that his dad had torn up.) he used to have.

He makes the mistake of turning his head.

Vomit rises up in his throat the second he looks over and finds Dad lying there, face flat into the ground, body eerily still. If this had been any other day, he'd assume Dad had just passed out from whatever drug (that's what it was called — right? The powder-like things? The shots?) which meant he had time to sneak into the kitchen to eat or play 'house,' with his stuffed (not anymore) toys.

Except, this wasn't any other day.

A small pool of blood sits there around his head and it seems it has no intention of leaving nor staying small. It grows, and grows, and grows until he can't look anymore. Part of him believes he's going to get up. Part of him believes this is all a test — that the man with the white hair and red eyes is going to put him down anytime soon and Dad will get up, wiping the fake blood off his head and start screaming at him, start saying, " _You chose to do absolutely nothing?! I could have died! Are you really this ungrateful?!"_ before lunging towards him. Maybe he'd lock him in the closet for a few days longer. Maybe he'd put tape over the fridge and blame him for trying to sneak in even when he wasn't. Or maybe, this time, he'd finally kill him like he always says.

But no, if this was a test, then the man wouldn't be taking him outside.

(Dad would have never left him out.)

He didn't even realize he was outside until the cool air hit his skin.

"I'm fuckin' _serious_ ," the man hisses through the phone. He senses the man's annoyance, gripping tightly onto his shirt as he buries his face into it on reflex, shivering. Although he was sure the man wouldn't hurt him (hopefully) it was still unsettling to see anger on _any_ kind of face. The man must have read his mind or something because he lowered his voice and gave him a pat on the back. "Sorry kid…" He paused. "Do you have a name?"

He hesitates before speaking, face still buried in his shirt, "What do you mean?" The man blinks.

"I don't know your name, kid."

Was this some kind of joke?

"You said it," he mumbles softly. "It's Kid."

The man stops speaking for an entire sixty seconds.

 

**#2- the man with the black hair and the Christmas colored eyes**

The man with the white hair (Samatoki) brings him to his house (which is clean. Very clean, white walls and pretty floors.), puts him on the bed and tells him he'll be right back. But no, he already knows what's going to happen. Before Samatoki can close the door and keep him locked away, he runs up to him.

Why, why? He didn’t do _anything._

"No, no!" he's screaming, grabbing onto his legs. Samatoki looks down at him with an expression he can’t make out, but his wide eyes were enough to tell it was something bad. “Samatoki. Don’t lock me away. Please.” Samatoki opens his mouth to speak, but then another man steps in.

He has black hair and Christmas colored eyes.

He looks at him like he doesn’t exist before looking back at Samatoki.

He frowns, “What’s going on?” Samatoki sighs, moving a hand (to hit him? No.) to pat his hair.

“Ichiro, the kid thinks I’m going to lock him away,” Samatoki responds. “Was only gonna leave him for a few minutes to talk to you about him.”

“Lock him away…?” Ichiro whispers. “Samatoki...where did you _find_ him?”

“I’m not sure what that bastard did to him, but right before I knocked him out —,”

“ —Samatoki!”

“—I saw him sittin’ in the corner,” Samatoki continues.  “He didn't even flinch. I couldn’t just leave him there. Then I called you.” Ichiro seems to go quiet for a few seconds before he smiles. He crouches down, hand nearing towards him. But before Ichiro can touch him, he flinches and moves so that he’s behind Samatoki. Ichiro looks up at Samatoki, confused. “I don’t think he trusts you.”

“That’s alright,” Ichiro says, his smile still there. “What’s your name?”

“Kid…,” he whispers. He watches as Ichiro and Samatoki look at each other. Why were they looking at each other like that?

“Kid isn’t your name,” Ichiro finally says. He grips onto Samatoki's leg tighter.

“Yes it is,” he insists. “You don’t even...know me.” Ichiro gets closer to him. He carefully places his hand on his shoulder.

“Do you want a new name?” He asks, giving it a light squeeze.

A new name? Maybe...maybe he wouldn't think of Dad whenever someone said his name.

“You can do that?”

Ichiro's laugh makes him feel safe inside, “Yes.”

 

**#3- the building with other kids and adults**

“Samatoki,” he says. “I don’t want to go.”

“You’ll be fine, Sasuke.”  He sighs, clutching tightly onto the fabric of Samatokis sleeve.

“Will you be there?”

Samatoki has a pained expression on his face, “No. I have a meeting with Uncle Jyuto. But I promise Ichiro will pick you up.” He gnaws on his bottom lip as they reach the door.

He tries again, “Can’t...can't Ichiro stay with me?”

“No,” Samatoki says softly, ruffling his hair, a gesture that usually makes him feel better but now only sent anxiety through him. “Ichiro's busy. But I _promise_ he will be there. You’ll enjoy school. There are tons of kids your age, you know?”

“But…,” Samatoki crouches down, looking him straight in the eye.

“If you don’t like it, I promise I’ll take you out. Just try one day, okay?” He nods numbly and Samatoki smiles.

He leans in to kiss his forehead goodbye. Then, a nice lady comes out and tells him to take a seat.

He likes school, he thinks.

 

**#4- You bad, bad little boy.**

He doesn’t know how, but his dad is here. His dads here, a bandage wrapped around his head and an enraged look on his face.

He tries to run, but his dad's hand stretches, long and far,  grabs him by his collar, pulling him back. He lets his feet drag, attempting to keep his weight down, but his Dad _always_ brings him back, he _always_ does. He's _always_ stronger.

“No!” He struggles, attempting to pry the fingers off his collar. It only causes them to tighten more, which causes him to gasp for air.

“How dare you?” His dad hisses, voice thundering, tugging. “You went off and just replaced me after everything I did for you?”

“You did _nothing_ !” he spits, his voice trembling. "Leave me _alone!_ "  His dad yanks harder,

“I put food on the table.”

 

A slap.

 

“I took care of you even after your whore of a mother didn’t want to.”

 

A kick.

 

“I gave you a bed.”

 

A hand to his throat, forcing him to look at his Dads face, this time the bandage unraveled. There's a massive gash in his head, blood streaming, pooling into his eyes and dying it red.

 

“ _And this is what you do to me?!”_

—

 

He startled awake, gasping. He reached out to touch his drawer immediately,  making sure it was the feel of genuine wood and wouldn’t warp out of his hands.

He buries his face into his hands.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, standing up, making his way to the bathroom. “You’re fourteen...”

He washes his face up, staring into the mirror, gaze firm.

“He’s not coming back. He’s gone. He’s _dead_.”

Then dream or not— why, _why_ did he always see him in the mirror?

**#5- Inoue Sensei**

Ms. Inoue, the math teacher, hands back his test.

“Good score, Yamada,” she says, as always.

“Thank you,” he says, as always. He makes his way, as always, to grab his backpack while checking his phone for bus times.

“Yamada,” she calls out. He turns around, waiting for her to speak. She hesitates, a small smile spreading on her face, “It’d do you good to have some friends.” He sucks air through his teeth.

Of course, that wasn’t the first time he’s heard that.

“I’m no stranger to those words,” he shrugs.

“I know,” she laughs, adjusting her glasses. “I know you don’t have any anxiety of some sort. You just don’t think you need them, do you?” What was this, a state the obvious?

“I don’t, ” he says flatly.

She shakes her head, smile still present, “Everybody needs someone. Especially those who think they don’t.”

 

**#6- won't hurt to try**

“It won’t hurt to try.” This kid who’s probably younger than him dangles the ziplock bag in his face. “And besides, they’re fucking amazing.”

Well, he thinks as he reaches over to grab it, in the end, his dad was just always going to be a part of him, huh?

 

**#7- the first one**

 He doesn’t know how he winded up in this club, really. One minute he was feeling sick from whatever he had swallowed, and the next he was stumbling into a noisy space with loud music. The neon lights spotted across the room like a game of laser tag. Although part of him knew what he did wasn’t superb, he was still smart. He’d decided he’d stay in this noisy as fuck club until he felt well enough to get the hell out.

That’s when the guy had walked over, taking a spot next to him. He minded his own business, taking a sip of _whatever_ the fuck this piss colored drink was until the man spoke,

“You’re quite the eye catcher.” He turns towards the guy, raising an eyebrow. He had jet black hair, _could_ have been his age and wore a grey sweater. He didn’t miss the way the man's eyes swept over his body before he spoke again, “What’s your name?”

“I believe that’s none of your business,” he said curtly. This guy doesn’t seem to quit, he thinks, because he’s leaning forward.

“You look troubled.”

“You want a gold star or something?” The guy laughs and squeezes his thigh(when the hell did his hand get there?) while leaning in close.

"I can take your mind off of whatever it is," he says slowly. "It'll be fun for both of us. I promise."

Did this guy think he was _insane_ ? That he'd give himself to a stranger for the sake of a distraction? For a small opening to forget whatever was on his mind? Whatever it was, he tells himself that it's just the alcohol and certainly _not_ that as he lets the man kiss his lips. He lets him kiss down his neck, he lets him unbutton his shirt and kiss his chest. He lets him stumble outside of the club, lets him drag him into the nearest hotel, lets him push him down onto the bed and have his way with him. It was rough, and it hurt like hell, but he was also made to feel good.

He wakes up to six missed calls, one from Saburo, two from Samatoki, three from Ichiro with a shit ton of text messages as an acquaintance. He reaches for his glasses to properly read the messages, but instead, his fingers come into contact with an all too familiar feeling— cash. _What,_ he thinks while tucking it away, _am I some kind of whore now?_

His tongue feels sour as he calls back Ichiro to tell him he stayed up studying too long and accidentally fell asleep at the library.

If anyone noticed he was lying, they didn't say anything.

**#8- abuse is what he grew up with, so it's okay if he does it to himself too**

 He's getting worse, he knows, but he makes a promise to himself that he'll fix it tomorrow. Tomorrow turns into tomorrow, which turns into two days, which turns into a week, which turns into a month, which turns into a cycle.

But it's okay if he's doing it to himself because at least no one is doing it to him.

His schedule consists of locking himself in his room so he can focus on his work right after he comes from school. After that, he goes to his part-time job. Then he's free to do whatever he wants, which usually consists of dates or one night stands. Then he comes home around midnight and stays up on energy drinks and coffee to do extra.

But it's okay if he's doing it to himself because at least no one is doing it to him.

He'll break sooner or later.

But he doesn't allow himself to.

He'll swallow as much as he needs, sleep around as much he needs to because _no one_ is going to see him break down.

No. One.

 

**#9- Introduction**

His teammates, so far, look ready to give it their all. Rai was rather clumsy with words and a bit on the awkward side, but overall a good listener.

Kihei was extra nice (although, sometimes he felt like there was more…) which would be an excellent charm for a potential fanbase if they ever got there.

No.

They _will_ get there, and he'd make sure of it.

He didn't come here to be friends with them anyways.

He came to succeed.

To be better.

 

**#10- Page 1**

The sun's rays peek through the window and the birds that usually overlap each other seem to hum in harmony. Kihei's lounging on his beanbag, legs crossed over each other as he smiles down at his phone screen. Rai bursts in, an envelope in his hand.

"It's the end of Ticketlove..." Rai begins, voice dramatic as he waves the envelope in the air. He and Kihei roll their eyes at the same time.

"You've been doing this for the past five fucking years," Kihei groans.

Rai ignores him, "...Unless we decide to renew our contract by tonight." He puts his hand on his hips, grinning, "Are we gonna go another year, kings?"

"Hell yeah," Kihei yawns, sitting up in the beanbag to stretch. "I'm willing to tolerate you for another year." Rai makes a face before walking over to the hanger. He twirls the keys in his finger before turning around,

"I propose we go out to eat then." Kihei perks up, standing up from his seat.

"Hell yeah, take us somewhere fancy, rich boy." Rai sticks his tongue out at Kihei as he shrugs on his coat. Rai leans against the doorway, turning his head towards him.

"Are you coming, Yamada?" he asks, tilting his head. He wants to say no thanks, to say that what he's working on is actually important this time. But instead, he drops his pencil and shuts the drawer.

 

"Yeah," he smiles. "I'm coming."

—

 


End file.
